Chapter Sixteen

Treize drew Zechs into the room they had been sharing with a gentle tug on the hand he was holding, smiling at the faint dampness in the skin under his own that betrayed the state of the younger man's nerves.

There were other signs, too, of the 'apprehension' Zechs had admitted he felt. The look in the slightly too wide blue eyes, the too-fast respiration rate that hadn't been caused by the climb up the stairs. Treize had seen Zechs pilot a mobile suit into the middle of a battlefield with more composure than he was showing at the moment. In other circumstances it might have been amusing, but not now.

That edge of fear had the capacity to become Treize's worst enemy in what was to come, and could potentially prevent them from going through with their plans altogether. He knew Zechs was aware of the mechanics of the thing, courtesy of a conversation during their Christmas break – late at night and aided by several bottles of wine – that had resulted in a lot of laughter and the odd bit of experimentation but theoretical knowledge was, in this case, no substitute for practical experience.

He knew, from his own experiences, that it didn't need to hurt, that it could feel wonderful, but if he couldn't break the younger man of his worry and get him to relax, then it would simply be painful and not at all the pleasure the general wanted it to be.

Fortunately, he'd been expecting something like this from his companion and had planned for it. Treize let go of Zechs's hand and turned to face him with a smile. "Wait here for a moment, please. I won't be long."

Zechs nodded, and Treize made his way into the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he set the plug into the bath and turned the hot water on, letting it fill whilst he pulled clean towels from the cabinet under the sink and retrieved a few small items from his shaving kit that he set on the little shelf above the bath. Dimming the lights, he left the water to cool and went back into the bedroom.

The pilot was standing exactly where Treize had left him.

Moving slowly, the general took the younger man into his arms and held him, stroking one hand along the length of his spine, until he felt some of the tension fade away. "I need you to trust me now, enough to do what I tell you to do without questioning me," he murmured quietly. "Just as I'm trusting you to tell me if something doesn't feel right. I can't keep asking you if you're alright, and I can't explain everything I do. We'll be here all night if we try it that way. Can you do that?"

Zechs nodded. "Yes."

"Good."

Treize let go of the pilot and turned for a small cabinet in the corner of the room. A few swift movements left him holding a glass of something richly amber coloured and he brought it back with him, holding it loosely in one hand, stopping a few paces away from the other man.

Zechs looked awkward, a far cry from his usual self-possessed poise and it brought a smile to Treize's face. He took a small sip from the glass, and then looked at the pilot. "Strip for me," he directed.

Despite the fact that they'd seen each other without clothes dozens of times in the past few months – hadn't been particularly self-conscious around each other even before that, a legacy of their shared childhood and their years in the military – Zechs flushed, but he obeyed, peeling out of his formal clothing with practiced speed. Treize allowed himself to watch and enjoy for a moment or two before he closed the space between them and leaned forward to brush his mouth against the pilot's.

He pulled away just as Zechs reached for him and pressed the glass into the blonde's hand. "I've run a bath for you. Take this with you and go and get in it. I want you to drink that slowly and try to relax. I'll join you in a minute or two."

He smiled at Zechs's decisive nod and turned so he could gaze at the younger man as he left the room.

************************************

Zechs let the water of the bath enfold his body, relishing the feel of the almost-too-hot liquid. Treize had addicted him to baths back in October but it wasn't often he had the time for more than a quick shower.

It was rarer still that he got to lounge in a bath run the way he'd learned he liked them best – with water so hot, so close to scalding, that it felt cold against his skin as he moved and caused convulsive shivers on first touch that shook all his nerves and set them glowing.

He did, and did not, know what the older man was trying to accomplish by insisting he take this bath. He supposed that it, like the bourbon in his hand, was intended to help him relax and, to some extent, he could acknowledge that it was working. The heat and the gentle support of the water, in combination with the effect of the alcohol, were conspiring to rob his muscles of the tightness nerves had created, leaving him languid, almost drowsy, and feeling only the delicious, slow-building tension Treize had woven between them all day.

At the same time, he wondered why Treize had chosen a bath for that purpose. Though it was lovely at the moment, it would prove a shock to step back into the comparatively cold air and a distraction to dry themselves off again.

The door slid open, throwing a shaft of dim light over the surface of the water, making the droplets he splashed into the air as he moved to look up at his friend sparkle and twinkle as they fell.

Cinnamon and honey hair glowed in the backlight from the door as Treize turned to close it behind him, and then soft footfalls marked his movement to the side of the bath. "Comfortable?" the general asked, his voice a low murmur, as he sat on the edge facing his friend.

"Hmm." Zechs allowed his eyes to drift closed as they wanted to and smiled in response to Treize's soft chuckle. A sharp clink and an unexpected chill weight against his hand told him that the older man had brought the bourbon bottle with him and was refilling his glass and he concentrated on the faint, tart aroma of the alcohol layered over the dampness of the water, the citrus tang of the remnants of his cologne and the heavier perfume of Treize's.

The sudden scent of roses overwhelmed everything else and Zechs opened his eyes, briefly, to see his friend pouring the oil the younger man remembered so well from Christmas from a small bottle into the palms of his hands.

"I seem to recall you liked this?" Treize asked, leaning forward and allowing those hands to rest on the pilot's shoulders. It was a familiar gesture, soothing as strong fingers, slick with the oil, dug into the muscles and began to drag the last of the stiffness from them.

Zechs sighed, feeling the low burn of desire in his body rack a notch higher. Until Treize had touched him, the younger man hadn't realised how much he'd wanted him to.

The hands left his shoulders as the water splashed and lapped around him and then there was a second source of heat in the bath with him – one with smooth skin and warm breath. Zechs opened his eyes again to see Treize gazing at him from a few inches away, his quiet smile reflected in the light in his deep eyes. Long fingers stole the blonde's glass from his hand as Zechs asked himself how he hadn't noticed that the general wasn't wearing anything when he came into the room.

Treize's smile quirked into a mischievous grin as he effortlessly followed the pilot's train of thought. He took a sip from the glass, swallowed it to answer his own nervous qualms – it had struck him, whilst he was removing his own clothes and readying the bedroom, just what it was that he was preparing for, and what it meant to him – felt the bite of the bourbon in his throat and set the glass on the side of the bath.

For a moment, Treize allowed himself to simply look at his companion, acknowledging privately what he doubted would ever be said aloud. Ever a pleasure to look at, as Zechs was now – relaxed and contented, water-glazed, bronze-tinted skin glowing in the light, white-gold hair swirling in the bath around them both – the younger man possessed an almost unapproachable beauty.

Articulate as he was – many had titled him silver-tongued – Treize knew that put into words, no matter how clever they were, such sentiments would quickly become maudlin and trite and would likely cause an awkward embarrassment for them both. Such thoughts were better communicated in other ways.

Treize lifted one hand from the water and brushed a lock of Zechs's striking hair back. "Kiss me," he murmured.

Zechs looked at him for a moment, then leaned forward and did as he was asked. The pressure of his lips on the general's was soft at first, simply unassumingly there until Treize slipped the hand that was still playing with the silvery strands of hair behind Zechs's head and drew them together.

The kiss deepened naturally, becoming a fluid, practiced shifting and stroking pleasure. Zechs fell into the familiar wash of sensations it summoned up, delighting in the taunting brush of the other man's tongue and the teasing sting of his teeth. Slowly, it came to the pilot that there was a sense of certainty in this kiss that made it all the more pleasing. For – perhaps – the first time they were both completely at ease, not having to worry about what would happen next or to remember that they couldn't let things go too far. It was so odd a thought – that tonight, when they had more to be nervous about than they had ever had before, they could simply relax and let things happen as they would – that Zechs felt amusement bubbling up inside him and he broke the kiss to laugh.

At the same moment, Treize used his hold on Zechs to shift them both so they were more or less lying in the water together. The shock of the general's solid, slender weight stole the laughter away and flashed heat through the blond. He gasped, abruptly breathless and found himself shifting restlessly, pressing his body against the older man's.

Treize's fingers unwound themselves from the hair at the back of Zechs's neck and settled on his shoulder again whilst he rained fleeting, feather-light kisses along the pilot's jaw line and down his neck. The general's hand moved just as his mouth reached the spot it rested on and traced a path down the younger man's chest with caresses that switched, seemingly at whim, from soothingly firm to ticklingly light, and back again.

Zechs closed his hands, in turn, on his commander's waist, gripping too hard as that mouth focused on its chosen inch of his skin. Treize was going to leave a mark, Zechs was sure, if he didn't move on rather shortly – but it was hard to care when the combination of lips, tongue and teeth, and the ever lower stroking of Treize's hands was creating such a firestorm of need in him. He moaned and felt Treize slide both of his hands to the blonde's hips and tighten there in wordless approving reply.

Treize lifted his mouth from his lover's collarbone, silently approving of his handiwork, and shifted his body lower on the blonde's. Thanking God for natural grace and supple muscles, he folded in on himself and settled so he was sitting on his heels in the water. For a moment Treize allowed himself to simply watch the younger man, then he let go of the pilot's hip and let his hand drift over until he could take hold of his stiffened need.

Zechs cried out at the first brush of Treize's fingers on his erection, so delightfully responsive, and then gave into breathy moans as Treize began a steady stroking, his hand firm and sure and rendered slick by the water in the bath. The younger man's skin took on the first shades of a deepening rosiness caused by exertion and nearing release, and Treize reached out with his free hand to tip more of the scented oil into his palm – perfectly certain that Zechs had no idea what else it could serve as.

"Oh, God…. Treize, stop!" Zechs pleaded, voice ragged, knowing he couldn't last much longer.

Treize smiled. "Why?" he asked, to tease, then shook his head. "It's fine – let it happen."

"But…"

"But what? Don't you trust my powers of resurrection?"

Zechs shook his head but Treize doubted it had anything to do with a negative answer. Practiced movements slicked the fingers of his free hand with the oil he'd collected without breaking rhythm and as Zechs arched and spent, he slipped his first finger past the tight muscle of Zechs's entrance and into his body, choosing to lose the shock of this first invasive touch under the wash of the younger man's climax.

The force of Zechs's movements caused a fair amount of the bath water to spill over the sides and onto the slate floor but Treize scarcely noticed as he concentrated on his twin goals – holding his hand still and preventing his friend from drowning himself as he collapsed back into the support of the water. His heavy, gasping breaths the only sound in the room, it was almost a full minute before Zechs sighed with contentment and opened his eyes.

Treize met his gaze as it began to clear and offered him a gentle smile. "Milliardo…," he murmured, waiting.

The younger man began to sit up lazily and more water splashed onto the slate as he convulsed in shock when the change in position made him abruptly aware of the presence of Treize's finger. The general had to react quickly to avoid taking a blow from a flailing limb: his free hand caught Zechs's and held it in a tight grip until the younger man stilled again, freezing completely, crystal eyes wide and breath catching.

"Oh, my God…!" Zechs gasped, everything in him focussing on the alien sensation.

Treize chuckled at him, the sound rich and flowing in the heavy air of the bathroom and squeezed the hand he was still holding. "My apologies for surprising you. It is somewhat different, isn't it?"

"Uh…"

"Quite." Treize let go of the younger man's hand and began to stroke the pilot's hair back from his forehead. "Am I hurting you?"

"…No…," the pilot replied hesitantly. "It's just… odd…"

"I know. Try to relax – just let yourself get used to it."

Zechs closed his eyes, letting himself drift in the twinned sensations Treize's hands were creating – the comfortable, calming feel of his hair being petted and the sharper, new-found spirals of heat being generated inside him. Whilst he would never have admitted it aloud, Treize's hands were one of the things Zechs found most compelling about his lover and being touched by them in any way had long been something of a secret pleasure. The idea of those slender, pale-skinned, elegant fingers actually inside his body was enough to cause a flare through his nerves that made Zechs twist into their touch unconsciously.

Treize felt the tension in the muscles trapping his finger relax and smiled when the younger man began to rock against his touch. Obligingly, he shifted his finger, pressing it deeper and it was enough to win him a soft moan from his friend.

"Treize… that feels…"

The general bent forwards, halting any further words with his mouth as he kissed the pilot. Aware that the water was beginning to cool, he rubbed the oil onto his next finger, pulled the first free for a moment, and then let Zechs's own movement slide both back into his body.

The sudden burning stretch triggered a sharp cry and another moment of frozen uncertainty from the younger man as his body reacted to the unfamiliar pressure. This time, Treize didn't wait for Zechs to begin to move on his own – he waited just long enough for the tightness to start to ebb away and used that as his cue to begin moving his hand back and forward, pressing the looseness he needed into the tissues under his touch.

The pilot shifted uneasily, the movement somewhere between a demanding squirm and a flinching struggle to get away and Treize leaned into him and kissed him again, his free hand washing the first glaze of sweat from the younger man's forehead as he continued running it through the wraith-like locks of hair. "Breathe," he murmured. "Just breathe."

The older man persisted until every last trace of tightness had gone from the pilot's body – until he was whimpering, working his own body further onto the fingers inside him – and then he pulled his hand away slowly, pleased when Zechs moaned a protest.

Gracefully, Treize got to his feet and stepped out of the rapidly chilling water, collecting one of the towels he'd readied and wrapping it around himself to counter the cool air. A second towel over one arm, he offered his hand to the younger man like some old-fashioned butler and helped him to climb over the side of the bath onto the water-slick floor. Midnight eyes met those the colour of a winter dawn and Treize smiled, pulling his friend into his arms and against himself as he threw the towel around him.

Zechs was trembling – shivers only partially caused by the low temperature of the room – and he inhaled sharply as he pressed his renewed hardness into the general's hip.

Brisk rubbing with the towels banished the water from their skin and took the worst of it from Zechs's hair, and then the older man smiled at him gently. "Still willing to go through with this?" he asked, his voice softer than Zechs had thought it could be.

Zechs nodded, and the smile grew. "Bed, then," Treize instructed.

The pilot threw the towel he'd dried himself with onto the counter and turned for the door, leaving Treize to snare one or two rather crucial items and follow him.

***************************

Zechs let himself fall into the softness of the pillows as Treize tugged the tie that would close the drapes on the bed, arranging the heavy, tapestry-like fabric until there was no gap at all in the folds. The antique four-poster, along with the size of the bathtub, had been the reason Treize had chosen this room for the two of them but neither of them had thought it necessary to close the hangings before now. In fact, Zechs had dismissed them as something of an anachronistic annoyance but he smiled slowly now, watching as the older man fussed and made sure that all view of the world beyond the bed was completely gone.

It was a curiously comforting feeling, the sense that the two of them were cocooned in their own little hideaway and Zechs finally began to understand why Treize had brought him here in the first place. Fragile as their shelter was, a matter of perception rather than actuality, it would grant them something in what was about to happen that Zechs hadn't even known he wanted until this moment. The drapes blocked out a good portion of the light as well, giving their self-created haven an intimate gloom and casting shifting shadows along Treize's fair-skinned form as he turned around.

The sight left Zechs, his body still tingling and needy from the bath and his emotions swirling, reaching for the older man impatiently, pulling at him until he was lying half atop the pilot, and gazing down at him gently.

"Eager, aren't you?" Treize quizzed, the smile on his face more than a little feral.

Zechs gazed up at him and shrugged. "Do you blame me for being?" he asked softly.

"Not really," Treize admitted. "I can't say I'm not." He wound long fingers into a lock of Zechs's hair and tugged lightly. "But you are going to have to be patient a little longer."

Zechs's expression took on a hint of a glare, though whether it was at having his hair pulled or at the idea of being patient, Treize couldn't be sure. The pilot lifted a hand and batted at the fingers the older man had tangled up in a curiously feline gesture, making Treize chuckle at him quietly as he caught the blonde's hand before it could make contact with his own. He pressed the captured hand into the yielding folds of the pillows above the younger man's head and pinned it there as he brought his mouth down on the pilot's own.

Their kiss drove the playfulness from the moment, recalling the simmering heat the two men had built up between them in the bathroom. Zechs began to struggle against the restraining grip, making noises low in the back of his throat and, for once, the older man gave into his wordless request and let him go.

Treize smiled quietly as the blonde's fingers immediately began tugging at him, trying to draw him more fully against the lithe form beneath him. He let himself be settled into position on the soft sheets and held it just long enough to kiss Zechs again, deep and lingering, and then pulled away as the younger man's breathing began to catch in his throat.

Moving languidly, Treize knelt up to snag the vial of oil he had brought from the bathroom into his hand and then settled back on his heels between parted knees.

Zechs cast a curious look at the bottle and Treize turned it, opening his palm so that the younger man could see what it was. "I should have known," the pilot murmured, not quite rolling his eyes.

"Yes," Treize smirked, "you probably should have. Useful stuff, this. I have it specifically made up just so it can serve as many purposes as it does."

"I can believe it," Zechs replied. "Is there anything you don't use that for? I wouldn't be surprised to find you've oiled your suits with it before now."

Treize shrugged, laughing softly. "I haven't gone quite that far but I'll admit the stuff gets about a bit. It's possible to buy all sorts of things that will do the job we need it for tonight over the counter in any number of shops, but…"

"But that just wouldn't be you," Zechs finished for him, and smiled affectionately.

"Indeed not. I much prefer the personal touch it lends to things, and besides," Treize gave another shrug, just a fraction less careless than the last, "this is far more… discreet… than any commercial product would be."

Before the implications behind that statement could take root in Zechs's agile mind and ruin the mood between them, the general flicked the silver lid of the flask open and poured the honey-coloured, sweet-smelling oil into his palm, working it into his fingers until they were as slick as they had been in the bath. A deft twist of his wrist allowed him to close it again with the hand holding it and Treize dropped the bottle onto the bed, knowing it wouldn't leak, making sure it was within easy reach if he needed it again.

He turned his attention back the younger man, one long look between them to confirm Zechs was still sure about this, and then the general leaned forward a little, reaching out to snag one of the spare pillows from the top of the bed.

Zechs cast him a curious look as the older man brought it to his chest, almost hugging it to himself as he smiled. "You really should be on your knees for this," Treize offered. "The angle would be… easier for you, but," he shrugged and Zechs was surprised to see him colour a little, "I confess, I'd rather you stay as you are."

"Alright," Zechs agreed.

"Thank you," Treize sighed and patted Zechs lightly on the top of his hip bone. "Roll over a little, will you?" he asked. Zechs raised an eyebrow but co-operated, looking a little surprised when Treize slipped the pillow underneath him and gestured for him to roll back.

The general offered him another steadying smile, leaned forward to press his mouth to the younger man's once more and slid his first two fingers back into Zechs's body at the same time.

For a moment, Zechs tensed against the sensation of having his body breached, instinct and inexperience prompting the reaction beyond his effort to suppress it. A moment later he began to relax, moaning as he dug his heels into the bed and arched his back to drive those fingers further into him.

Treize watched him, working to keep his face from showing his thoughts too clearly. For tonight, the blonde needed Treize to give him the version of his commander he was used to, calm and in control. He didn't need to know that this was the first time Treize had taken a partner to bed who was less experienced than himself, that the general was guiding Zechs mostly from his own memories. Nor did he need to know just how relieved the older man was at how easily Zechs was handling things. The pilot had taken to it all as well as the older man had ever hoped he would, and if he didn't yet have Treize's own abiding love for the sensations he was feeling, then it was sufficient for now that it was necessary for the general to grip the blonde's hip with his free hand and hold him to keep him from moving with too much force.

A few seconds was enough to regain any relaxation of muscle lost in the time since they'd left the bath, and then Treize concentrated on transferring the oil from his fingers to his partner with firm, thorough caresses that had the younger man panting and not so far from reaching his peak. Zechs's moan of utter frustration when he pulled his hand clear was both pleasing and an indication that he hadn't stopped a moment too soon – though the pilot was young, even a body in its teens had limits – and Treize's own self control was teetering on a knife edge, shattered by watching the younger man caught in pleasure and knowing it was his touch that had put him there.

It was the work of a few seconds to apply the oil to his own shaft, and then he wiped his fingers clean on the towel he'd thrown across one corner of the bed and stretched out.

He caught soft lips with his own and spent a few seconds trapped in the kiss before lifting his head. "Milliardo – look at me, my love," Treize whispered, and burning-cold eyes, dazed with feeling, latched onto his own. The hand resting on the pilot's slim hip traced a path down his thigh and caught under his knee, drawing it up. Treize rocked his weight forward and felt the first inch of his own hardened flesh enter the body beneath him.

Zechs flinched from the stinging, burning pain Treize's arousal caused him. Though he could tell it would have been far worse without the loosening effect of the older man's fingers, it was a completely different sensation, and it was all he could do not to struggle and pull away. He shut his eyes tightly, whimpering and hating the sound even as he made it. He knew he was tensing even though he realised it was the last thing he should be doing.

"Shh," Treize murmured into his ear, long fingers carding through his hair in steady, and steadying, strokes. "Stay with me, beloved, try to let it happen."

Zechs shook his head, suddenly not sure if he could do this after all. "I…. it…."

"I know, I know…" Treize soothed, holding himself completely still. "Press down against me," he instructed. "It helps, and it will feel better in a minute – I promise it will."

Zechs took deep breaths, trying to force his body to adjust – for his lover's sake. There had been strain in Treize's voice, despite how careful he was being not to let it show anywhere else, and hearing it had reminded Zechs that although he had reached climax in the bath, the older man had all but ignored his own needs in his efforts to make this as pleasurable as possible for his friend.

Still, he knew that if he asked Treize to stop, the general would and would never even dream of reproaching him for it later – and it was that thought, finally, that gave him the courage to do as he had been asked and press down. It hurt, enough to force that silly little whimpering noise from him again, but almost immediately, the movement started to overcome his instinctive tensing and it began to get easier.

Treize let go of the breath he'd been holding as some of the pressure melted away and started to move in his own turn – little rocking shifts that grew slowly into shallow thrusts as Zechs finally relaxed under him, and then picked up his rhythm and matched him. "Oh, mein liebe," he breathed, feeling a peculiar mix of protectiveness and passion, overwhelming love and pure physical need rise up in him. It was both humbling and honouring that Zechs would let him do this, and whilst in terms of simple skill, the younger man was nowhere near the calibre of some of his previous partners, this remained the closest thing to perfection Treize had ever felt. It was a breath-taking swirl of longing and desire, and from one breath to the next he knew he wasn't going to last long, even as he heard his lover moan his own surging pleasure.

Treize's soft cry broke some unknown restraint in the younger man – shattered whatever had kept his movements tentative – and left him arching and writhing, changing the angle and the intensity of the general's body in his. There was a sudden flare of white across his vision as something sparked deep inside him, flashing fire through him, and he clung to Treize, short-trimmed nails digging into skin, as his release swept up, dizzying and devastating, and left him all but screaming as he came.

Lost in the whirl of sensation, he was only dimly aware of the older man's hands biting deeply into the skin of his hips as Treize began to move desperately – a brief series of fast, deep thrusts that ended when Treize gave a second soft, sharp cry, and went completely still in his arms, a flood of whispered German a match for the fluid Zechs could feel spilling inside himself.

They lay in utter immobility for a time Zechs couldn't adequately name, their breathing steadying and their skin cooling. What little of Treize's breathless whispering the pilot could understand seemed to translate out into a series of heartfelt prayers and touching endearments.

"Oh, merciful God…. Milliardo, sweetheart… dear one…."

The trembling that always seemed to take Treize after climax started, and for once, Zechs knew he was shaking just as hard. He wanted to say something, but he had the feeling that he wouldn't be able to get it past the sudden tightness in his throat.

It had ebbed enough for speech just as Treize lifted his head from Zechs's shoulder and kissed him deeply – slow and tender and expressing everything he had whispered and all the contentment and gratitude he was feeling besides. With an effort, he slipped himself free of his lover's body and reached for the towel to clean them both up.

Zechs let him work, not moving from his boneless sprawl on the bed. He was flushed and sweating, his hair a wild curtain around him, and he looked thoroughly debauched and dishevelled and never more exquisite. "Milliardo, my love, get under the covers," Treize murmured, dropping the towel and the bottle of oil onto the floor at the side of the bed, and pulling back the sheets.

Zechs moved slowly, rolling onto his side with his head buried in one of the pillows, and Treize couldn't help but laugh, murmuring some further endearment as he laid down behind him, dropped a gentle, grateful kiss on the back of his neck, folded him into his arms and sank into exhausted sleep.